Last April, I was attacked by Chile con Queso in the teacher’s lounge at my school.  I realize that the teacher’s lounge is widely regarded as a gathering place for gossip and complaining. I mean…where else are we going to vent? There are not many places to just talk…especially in  schools nowadays. There are security cameras just about everywhere and videos of entrances continuously streamed onto monitors. Certainly, I am thankful for the safety factors. If only I had a security video of the exact moment that the Chile con Queso became my enemy.

It is such a sad situation to bring up…but the Chile con Queso popped up and down and around when I removed it from the not so good microwave (as compared to the other almost not so good microwave on the opposite side of the room). Actually I would call this incident the ultimate queso explosion. There was only one other person in the lounge with me when the incident happened and she was on the phone. At least, she did scream and get off the phone.

Thank goodness she was there to help me with the countless paper towels we used to clean up the mess. We were working on the queso on the carpet when my two usual lunch-mates (a very weird word) arrived. “What in the world happened to you?”…I wasn’t worried about me yet. It was the floor and the ceiling and the window queso that was needing attention.

My friends were staring with shocked faces at me. That is when I realized that my face felt like I had been in the desert for three days in 115 degree weather. I ran to the sink and splashed water on my face and on my hands (which now felt just like my face). Pain. Real pain.

In the midst of my pain, they started laughing because of my horribly messy appearance…which made me laugh. When I looked in the mirror, all I could see was cheese everywhere…particularly in my hair. I still had bits of cheese in my hair four days later…no matter how many times I washed it. My lunch was ruined and they could not eat much lunch because of the hysteria. I finally did go and pick up my class at almost the right time.

“Why are you wearing your lunch?”, “Why did you make your face turn red?”, “Maybe you should color your hair to look like cheese. It’s a really pretty color now!” My assistant took the children back to the classroom and I went to visit the school nurse. She was really concerned and said that my face was looking “bad, bad”. I know that I felt “bad, bad”. I stayed until school was out, but I held an ice pack to my face all afternoon. The children were really totally fascinated by my injury. They decided that I most likely punched all of the wrong numbers into the microwave… maybe like three minutes instead of one minute. I guess I did, but I would rather put the blame on the microwave.

I went to the doctor immediately after school…first and second degree burns on my chin, on the left side of my face, and just to the side of my right eye. I can still see the scars, but can cover them with make-up. My hands were not hurt. Warning: microwaves are sometimes very vicious characters. Or… sometimes people make really crazy mistakes. I have yet to have Chile con Queso again.

Maybe I will have some on the 4th of July!

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